Maggie Swazey seemed flabbergasted for a moment, but she quickly recovered, and, pointing an accusing finger at the new arrival, she shrieked:
“How dare you show your face here, you wretch?”
“Hey?” grunted Maloney, in astonishment.
“You scoundrel! You reprobate! You base deceiver! You breaker of innocent hearts! You—you—you——”
She could find no epithet that expressed her intense emotion. Behind the excited girl’s back Tommy Tucker thrust his head out from beneath the couch and cried:
“Hit the high places, Dick! Hump yourself!”
Beneath the sink there was a crash as Buckhart inadvertently brought down one of the tin pans. Bouncer Bigelow was fruitlessly trying to mop some of the buttermilk off his clothes with his handkerchief. It was an interesting tableau, and, in spite of himself, the disguised boy laughed.
“Phwat do ye mane by laughing?” roared Officer Maloney. “Phwat’s your name? How did yez happen to come on my bate? Ye shnake, ye’re trying to steal me girrul!”
The hot blood mounted to the face of the speaker, and he stepped belligerently into the room.
“Skip, Dick!” said Tucker, once more. “It’s your last chance!”